Shadow War
by jtav
Summary: The Reaper War is fought on many fronts. Matthias Shepard fights to unite a fractured galaxy. Miranda Lawson works to bring Cerberus down from within. The path to happily ever after is hard-assuming it even exists.
1. Reunion

_The following contains spoilers from the leaked beta file, including partial squad composition. Fair warning. I have, however, tweaked Miranda's role the tiniest fraction. And yes, the Shepard here is the same Matt from Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man, though references to that story are minimal. Consider this both epilogue and apology for that story.  
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><p>The intercom buzzed to sudden life. Liara. "Shepard? Can I see you for a moment?"<p>

Matt finished adjusting the sight on his pistol. "Be right there." He didn't really want to deal with people right now. They'd saved the krogan—well, technically Mordin had saved them while Matt shot the things trying to stop him—and there was much backslapping and rejoicing all round. Except by him. Everyone thought he'd done it to save the species, but the truth was that he thought the krogan army would be a bit more useful. Buy the scientists the time they needed to construct the Crucible. He only hoped it was the right call and they wouldn't be dealing with another Krogan Rebellion in a few generations.

_Miranda rubbed off on me. _Matt winced. Thinking of Miranda was still a bit like being knifed. He exited the armory. The retrofitted SR-2 was still a strange and unfamiliar place and he still blinked to find himself on the crew deck instead of the CIC. The observation decks were gone, replaced by gun batteries. Crew quarters had been expanded. It was quieter. Whatever their faults, the Cerberus crew had always been talking and laughing about one thing or the other. Had Alliance crewmen always talked in such low, grim tones and he had simply forgotten? Or was it the war?

Liara's office was almost a straight shot from the armory. Technically, it probably should have been his quarters since Kaidan was ranking officer, but Liara needed the space more than he did. Every square centimeter of the place was covered with computers that beeped and chimed at irregular intervals. The soft bed had become a hard cot, and the couches were long gone. Not even a whiff of the distinctive jasmine scent that had once filled these quarters.

Liara looked up from one of those monitors. "I've been thinking about Cerberus," she said without preamble. "Why they attacked us on Sur'Kesh. It makes no sense. You gave them the base. They should still want the same things you do. Unless they're indoctrinated. And that wouldn't explain the increase in manpower and equipment."

Matt forced himself to smile. "What? The Shadow Broker doesn't have all the answers?"

She glared at him. "I'm doing the best I can with what I have. You try running an information network from here." She took a deep breath and her expression was suddenly unreadable. "We need Miranda. She's still Cerberus, technically. Maybe she can help us figure it out."

Matt grunted. Miranda had vanished after he'd turned himself in. He'd half-hoped for some message while he was locked up or at least once he'd gone back to the _Normandy._ But there'd been nothing. Of course, it could have been because the Reapers had gutted galaxy-wide communication instead of being in a ditch somewhere. Matt was always one to look on the bright side. "You think she's alive?"

"I know it. She's on the Citadel, and she goes by the name Katriana Solheim now."

Before Matt quite realized what he was doing, he'd taken two steps forward. "You knew she was alive, and you never told me?" Alive. Miranda was alive. Not blown to bits or turned into a husk. The idea seemed incredible. He'd lost his family to Mindoir and his unit to Akuze. Losing people was what he did, just as much as saving the day. But not this time.

"Calm down, Shepard. I only confirmed it this morning. She's a slippery one. I can see why you like her." Her voice was wistful, and Matt could suddenly see a piece of N7 armor in a glass case as clearly as if it had been standing there. He wasn't the only one here who was pining. "We need her. And maybe you'll do something besides mope."

"I do not mope. Do you think Kaidan will mind the detour?"

"Not if you tell him it's for the mission. And the crew will listen to you. You're a hero now that the Reapers are here. They'll go where you want."

Matt didn't feel like a hero. He felt like he was playing chess against a grandmaster with the entire galaxy as both pieces and prize. Sacrifice this and hope you can get that before your opponent notices. He'd never been that good at chess. If the galaxy survived, there would probably be a couple of dozen movies about all this. That would make him a badass full of witty one-liners who slept with every beautiful woman within a ten kilometer radius. His art would be gone. The uncertainty would be gone. Saviors of the galaxy didn't draw, and they didn't doubt. They certainly didn't long for anything more than to see their girlfriend again.

He could be the savior of the galaxy later. "I'll talk to Kaidan. He loves the steak at this one Presidium restaurant. Maybe if I bribe him with food, he'll take pity on me."

* * *

><p>In the end, no bribery had been necessary. Kaidan had simply shaken his head sadly and set course for the Citadel while Liara used the remnants of her contact network to arrange a meeting. And so, Matt found himself sitting on a bench in a place residents of the Presidium simply called the Park. Flora and fauna from around the galaxy had been arranged into a false forest. Birds from Thessia tweeted atop a redwood from the American Northwest. Matt had been here once before and liked it. It was an island of solitude amidst the bustle of the Citadel. He could almost pretend that he was back on Mindoir instead of at the heart of the galaxy. And it was the perfect place to work.<p>

Work he did. There was a time he thought he could've been a professional artist, before the batarians came and his biotics had manifested. Matt had done his duty and joined the military, but he could no more stop drawing than breathing. He sketched the pond in front of him in quick, smooth strokes. The challenge would be to capture the tranquility of the place. The duck lazing on the water had no clue there was a war on. People—he—needed reminders that there were still islands of peace even after all this. But the sketch was proving difficult. It was hard to capture peace when his hands were shaking and his stomach was doing gymnastics. Miranda might not come. Cerberus could have sent her to her death. Some indoctrinated Reaper servant could have assassinated her. She might have moved on. Six months was a long time, and only the arrival of the Reapers had saved him from court-martial and execution. He couldn't blame Miranda for considering the relationship over.

A twig snapped, just loud enough for him to hear. Matt turned.

Miranda.

For a moment he could only stare at her. Her father had wanted physical perfection, heedless of the fact that no human was perfect. Her face was perfectly formed, without so much as an oversized pore to detract from the ideal. He'd been terrified the first time he saw her, only mostly convinced that the woman was indeed human. And perhaps she wasn't. Perhaps she was a goddess. Mere mortals weren't supposed to raise the dead or survive suicide missions with barely a scratch. Miranda had done all that and more.

She came closer, not speaking, and dozens of small details Matt hadn't even realized he'd forgotten until the moment came into sudden focus. The translucent vein running down her throat, the subtle variations in skin tone. There were dark spots like bruises under her eyes, and she wore no makeup. That was new. He'd never known Miranda to be anything other than impeccably turned out. The grey and white jacket she wore fit her well enough, but even he could tell it wasn't exactly fashionable. If she was a goddess, she was a haggard one. And yet, her eyes were unchanged: the same brilliant mix of blue and gray that had fascinated him. The color of space, Matt had called them. Miranda had cuffed him on the shoulder and called him a sentimental ass. He still thought it was true.

He was dimly aware that he ought to go to her. That was the way it worked in every movie he had ever seen. The lovers, reunited at last, embraced each other tearfully and with many promises to never be apart again. But he couldn't move. Miranda drew ever closer. The scent of jasmine filled his nostrils for the first time in months, and he could hear her soft breathing.

She smiled at him. It was a strange, crooked smile that seemed as if it should have belonged to another, less troubled woman. Matt had only seen it once before, the first time she'd spoke of Niket. "You've caused me quite a bit of trouble, Commander. You'd better have a good explanation."

Her tone was light and playful. And that, finally, was enough to break the spell. Miranda was here, alive and whole. She wasn't broken or miserable or any of the thousand others fates he had feared for her. Matt tossed the sketchbook to one side and launched himself at her. She was warm and solid. He could feel the lean muscle through her clothes. Miranda let out an "oof" of surprise as he crushed her to him. Her arms came up stiffly to return the embrace. Matt buried his face in her neck. "Miranda," he murmured against her.

"Yes, it's me. I'm here." Her voice cracked almost imperceptibly on the last word. She drew back and looked him in the face. He'd been studied by Miranda many times as she calculated his value to the mission, whether she could trust him with the knowledge of Oriana, whether he was joking when he promised not to die. He was almost used to it. Almost. She frowned at him. "Your scars are showing." As if to prove it, she traced one finger down the length of his jaw.

"It's been a rough six months." He smiled at her. "But getting better."

She shook her head, amused that exasperated. "I thought about breaking in to see you. Alliance security being what it is, it would have been trivial. Maybe I should've risked it."

"Why didn't you?"

She led him back over to the bench. They sat, and she put her hands in his. "The same reason I didn't write to you before Liara tracked me down. Cerberus has gone mad. I was afraid they would use me to find you, and neither of us can afford that kind of risk. I know what happened on Sur'Kesh, and that's only the half of it."

Matt tensed. "What's going on? Are you in trouble?"

"Not yet. I'm not as trusted as I once was, though. Nothing but minor espionage work." She took a deep breath. "And old friends, people who have worked for Cerberus almost as long as I have, have been disappearing without a word. One day, I'm speaking to them, the next they've vanished without a trace. And yet, we're growing faster than ever. The Illusive Man doesn't have cells anymore. He has an army. And, it's probably paranoia, but …"

"I don't like the sound of that. But what?"

"My father's systems are suddenly very active. He's determined to get his hands on Oriana. Nothing new there, but he's talking about 'mending fences with old friends' to do it. I wonder if he might be trying to negotiate a deal with the Illusive Man. I moved Oriana again, but that won't be enough if I'm right. And my father's money would certainly help pay for the giant robots Cerberus has running around."

Matt squeezed her hands. "If he comes after Oriana, we'll stop them."

Her smile turned sad. "You will do no such thing. Remember what I told you once? You've got that fire that makes people follow you into hell. The Alliance is falling, and the Council are bloody idiots too busy bickering to do anything useful. Someone has to rally the galaxy, and I'm afraid you've drawn short straw. Let me worry about Oriana, if there's anything to worry about."

"You could still come with me. Like you said, Cerberus has gone crazy. There's nothing left for you there anymore." And he would know she was safe. They could fight together just like old times. She reassured him that he was making the right set of sacrifices or challenge him when she thought he wasn't. The war might even be something close to bearable.

"No!" The vehemence of her response made Matt start. "I was with Cerberus for years because I believed in the advancement of humanity. I still do, and I made other people believe. I recruited half of your old crew personally by telling them joining Cerberus was the only way they could fight the Reapers. But now they almost seemed to be helping them. I don't know why, but if Cerberus has betrayed humanity, I owe it to my men to bring them down."

Matt watched her. Miranda's eyes were dark and dangerous, the color of the sky during a lightning storm. This was the woman for whom nothing was impossible. It was easy to believe that Cerberus, Mr. Eldfell, and even the Reapers could fall merely because she willed it. "I'll have to be subtle, but I'll find out what's going on and put a stop to it. After that debacle on Sur'Kesh, you're going to need an inside man." She smiled. "Or woman, as the case may be. And I can't be that on the _Normandy_."

"I know. It's just…I've missed you. Sometimes I think you're the only person in the world I could ever really talk to."

Something strange passed over Miranda's face. Tenderness? Grief? Pain? It was impossible to say. "I've missed you too. Strange, I'm not really accustomed to missing people. But you can talk to me now. Tell me how your mission's going."

So, he did. He told her about his frantic flight from Earth, leaving Anderson behind and watching an unknown child die. The mad dash to find allies and resources to help build the Crucible. Saving the krogan and hoping he hadn't doomed the galaxy. Liara fleeing the Shadow Broker ship with only the files she could carry—"She stole your office, by the way."—and her exhilaration at finding the last of the Protheans. Miranda listened carefully, asking probing questions. Did they have any idea what the Reapers' weaknesses were? If he couldn't get salarian technical expertise, how did he plan to actually build the Crucible? Could this Prothean be trusted? Matt answered her as best he could, and it was almost like having, not just his girlfriend, but his executive officer, back.

"I can't fault you for choosing the krogan. If the armies of husks are as large and varied as they seem, we're going to need shock troops. And Wrex is far less likely to break his word to you than the dalatrass. Well done."

Matt flushed. Praise from Miranda was rare. Praise for his strategic ability was almost unheard of. "I do my best."

"Keep doing your best and we might just win this war."

"And bring Cerberus and the Reapers down." He touched her arm. "I don't think you're capable of doing less than your best, but you and I both know how dangerous this is." _Promise me you won't die._ "Promise me that you'll be careful."

Miranda didn't answer out loud. Instead, she seized his face in her hands and kissed him. Matt kissed her back, clinging to her the way a drowning man clung to the last piece of driftwood. Miranda's mouth was insistent and demanding, and Matt was more than content to follow her lead. He twisted his hands in her hair. Running his fingers through it had always felt like an impossibly decadent pleasure. Soft, silky perfection. Miranda's hands roamed his shoulders and arms, exploring her handiwork. Desire shot through Matt like a shot of Serrice Ice Brandy. A man could happily drown in a kiss like this one.

It was Miranda who pulled back first. Her cheeks were red with exertion and desire. Matt felt smug. At least he could affect her as she affected him. Miranda shot a significant look at the zipper of his trousers. Matt felt the heat intensify. An artist had to have a good imagination, but there were limits to what even a good imagination and his right hand could do for six months. He could bury himself in her, truly forget this war for a little while. He felt himself growing hard at the thought.

Miranda smirked. "Eager, are we? But I think I'll abstain just this once."

"What?"

"I'm considering it my incentive to be careful. Yours too." She ran a hand down his chest. "I promise you that it will be worth the wait. And I honor my promises."

"I know," Matt managed shakily. _And I'm going to need a very cold shower_.

She turned serious. "But now you should go. The Illusive Man has eyes everywhere, and even I can't give him the slip forever." She stood and turned to go.

"Wait!" Miranda had just got here, and now she was leaving for who knew how long? "When will I see you again?"

"Soon." Miranda smiled a predatory smile that normally heralded trouble for Matt. "Perhaps sooner than you think."

* * *

><p>It was another two days before they left the Citadel. Shut down some profiteers hoping to make a fortune hoarding medical supplies had proven unexpectedly time-consuming. In his free time, Matt devoted himself to fleshing out the sketch of the pond. There was a new addition: a raven-haired water goddess who was both master and protector of all she surveyed. It was she who would protect the fragile tranquility. One of his better pieces, if he did say so himself. There was no sign of Miranda. Matt could only pray she was safe.<p>

The night before they left, Liara came to his quarters bearing a small, plainly wrapped package. "This was left with one of my operatives. It was addressed to you. No card, but we've confirmed it's not an explosive or biological weapon."

Matt unwrapped the package gingerly. It was a silver disk about fifteen centimeters in diameter, containing nothing but a single black button. "Do you have any idea what this is?"

"I think… I think it's a small quantum-entanglement device. Cerberus had something similar in development before their shift in priorities."

Cerberus? Either this was some kind of sick joke or… or he hardly dared hope. Matt pressed the button.

"I was wondering how long it would take this to get to you," said a familiar voice. "I swiped a pair from one of our on-station R&D labs." The holographic Miranda didn't even try to hide her smirk.

A hot lump formed in Matt' throat. "I—I thought you said contact was too dangerous."

"It's risky. We will be able to talk every day. We still have our missions after all. But you're worth a little risk, I think. Particularly if it motivates you to do something about those damn scars."

Matt tried to laugh, but it came out closer to a sob. "Yes ma'am."

"Oh, and Matt?"

"Hm?"

"I missed you too."


	2. Defector in Place

_I wasn't going to do a sequel. I really wasn't. But sometimes Fate has other plans. Consider this expanded into a full-blown AU series about the Reaper War. Some stories will be romances like Reunion and some will be dark stories like this one. Every story will be complete in itself, but I'm grouping them together for easy reading._

* * *

><p>The facility was almost familiar. The same clinically white walls, the same logo on every available surface. Cerberus had always kept prisoners: test subjects, traitorous agents, high-value interrogation targets. Miranda had handled more of those interrogations than she cared to remember. No, this particular collection of holding cells was no different from any other. But she had never been accompanied by Kai Leng, either.<p>

His eyes were obscured behind the goggles he wore, and his arms and legs were covered in cybernetics that twisted around him like vines. He could, of course, have gone for less obvious enhancements that would have allowed him to blend in with the normal population, but that would spoiled his intimidating air. Miranda wasn't intimidated, at least not by the cybernetics. It was Lazarus tech that had enabled Leng to walk again after David Anderson had shot him at point-blank range. So now, the Illusive Man's assassin of choice was even better at killing things. Great.

"We found the source of the Ares leak."

"Did you now?" Miranda said with forced lightness. The Ares cell had been responsible for designing and updating the mental imprint routine used to transform ordinary soldiers into what the Illusive Man called Centurions—the squad leaders that implemented his high level directives. She'd successfully hacked Cerberus databases and directed Matt to its location. Cerberus doubtless had backups, but it would be weeks before they could create more soldiers. Another of the small yet crucial victories Miranda flattered herself that she was responsible for.

"That's actually why I called you here," Leng said as they left the elevator. "The traitor is a former member of Lazarus cell. Kelly Chambers. Apparently, she took some files with her when she left the organization. Nothing she was supposed to have, so we're thinking some as yet unknown accomplice passed them to her. Maybe a boyfriend or girlfriend. Our surveillance recorded her meeting with Commander Shepard several days ago." His lips curled into a tight smile. "Your ex looked quite friendly with her."

"Trying to make me jealous? Then stop confusing targets and romances. I assure you, Commander Shepard never would have given us the base without my assistance. Chambers is more than welcome to him." Miranda laced her voice with cold contempt and just the slightest hint of jealousy. Convincing the rest of Cerberus that resuming her relationship with Matt had been nothing more than a honey trap was a delicate balance. She couldn't be entirely indifferent—her professional pride would demand some jealousy when he inevitably moved on, but she couldn't afford to protest too much either. "Though I doubt Chambers is your mole. Entirely too sweet and innocent. She was recruited to give Cerberus a positive face for Shepard, not for her spy skills."

"That's what I said at first. But Shepard hit Ares just days after the meeting. The boss thinks it's an 'intriguing coincidence.' I think she's a filthy traitor who got all starstruck when Shepard saved her from the Collectors. Left as soon as he turned himself in."

"And you want me to track her down and get the name of her accomplice?"

Leng stopped and gestured toward a darkened cell. "Oh, no. We've already got her. But the boss does want you to get the name from her." He pressed a button, and the cell door opened. "Consider it payback for neglecting you all these months. I know how much you despise traitors to the cause."

The cell was small, perhaps three meters by three meters. Chambers sat curled in one corner. Her hair was dirty and straggly, her clothing torn and smudged. Miranda flinched. Chambers' relentless cheerfulness had grated on Miranda's nerves, but she had been Lazarus. The squad had listened only to Matt, but the Cerberus crew had looked to Miranda for leadership and protection. She was the one who had relocated their families away from Terminus colonies and who had assured them that they were fighting for humanity. They had been—still were—her people.

Chambers looked up. Her eyes were red from crying, and the left side of her face was covered in bruises. "Miranda? Oh, thank God! Tell him I don't know anything about an Ares."

Miranda surveyed the bruises. They were ugly things, symptoms of ugly methods she preferred not to use unless the situation was far more desperate than this. And that gave her an idea. There was, perhaps, a way to save Chambers without arousing suspicion herself. She turned to Leng. "What sort of techniques have you used?"

"Sleep deprivation, old-fashioned roughing up, the usual."

Chambers whimpered.

Miranda ignored her. "No biotics?"

"We were saving that for you."

"Good," Miranda said, and meant it. Torture was sometimes necessary when you lacked the time to build a proper relationship with the subject, but it more often resembled diving for credits in the sewers. You might find something valuable, but you were far more likely to end up with garbage. Victims would say anything to get the pain to stop.

Miranda knelt in front of Chambers. "You've seen Shepard shred Collectors with his biotics? I taught him how to do that, and I'm a thousand times more subtle and precise than he is. I suggest you tell the gentleman what he wishes to know."

"But I don't know anything!"

Miranda closed her eyes. _Forgive me._ "I think you do. Who passed you those files?"

"No one! I've never even seen any files!" Kelly seized Miranda's arm, and her voice was raw with hysteria. "You know me, Miranda."

Miranda summoned a small flicker of biotic power. Blue light raced over her fingers. It wouldn't be enough to so much as tear a piece of paper, but it certainly looked very impressive. She stroked a single finger down Chambers' good cheek. "Feels good, doesn't it? But with a little more force… well, I always thought you had a pretty face. I'd hate to ruin it."

Sweat formed on Chambers' forehead, and her breath came in short, quick gasps. This was another balancing act. She needed the woman terrified enough to say what she needed her to say, but not so frightened that she would clam up completely. Miranda paused, and made a show of concentrating very hard, as if she were trying to guess the answer. Her voice dropped to a whisper. "Was it Kasumi? She was only loyal to the credits we gave her, and the Alliance would pay well for information on Cerberus movements. And I know she liked you." Complete nonsense, of course, but plausible nonsense. Goto was far better at hiding than Cerberus was at tracking. Leng and his associates would be chasing shadows. Meanwhile, Miranda would arrange for Matt to rescue Chambers. Everyone won. Not a bad plan on such short notice.

All Chambers had to do was be smart enough to go along with it. _Please, I've done all I can for you._

"Yes!" Chambers' voice was like a sob. "Kasumi asked me if I wanted to help, that Cerberus was doing horrible things and we could help Shepard stop them."

Miranda raised an eyebrow at Leng. "You just have to know how to properly reach a person."

Chambers glared at her with equal parts pain and betrayal. Let the woman hate her. At least she would live to hate her. And Miranda could get back to the important work of chipping away at Cerberus where she could.

But Leng pulled out a gun. "Now to get rid of the traitor."

Miranda froze. The idea was so monumentally, utterly _stupid_ that it took her a moment to process it. "Are you insane? Killing Chambers now is just a waste." When Leng didn't respond, she continued, "You said she and Shepard were friendly? Use her as bait and Shepard will come right for you. He'll be full of righteous anger and stupid. Easy for you to pick off." She felt cold. This couldn't be happening. She had told Matt to leave Chambers to die once, but that had been for the sake of the mission. She shouldn't die here, not after Leng had bought that little performance.

"The boss wants her made an example of." He put his finger on the trigger.

"Miranda, please! I trusted you! We all did!"

For half of a stupid moment, Miranda wanted to knock the gun away. She was no match for Leng in a straight fight, but she might be able to stun him with the element of surprise. It was the sort of stupid, chivalrous thing Matt would have done. He would have braved the fires of Hell for the sake of those under his command. He would have found a way to get Chambers out of there. Miranda should have been able to do no less for those who had once put their faith in her.

And then what? Suppose she did manage to stun Leng and escape with Chambers? Her cover would be blown. She could no longer pass information to Matt, information that could save thousands, or even millions, of lives. Oriana would lose whatever precarious protection she still had. All for the sake of one woman.

Even Matt had been forced to destroy an entire star system. Miranda turned away.

The gun fired.


	3. Control

Matt woke to the steady, rhythmic beep of medical equipment. His skull felt like someone had carved out the inside with a rusty knife, and there was a sharp ache in his chest. He inhaled experimentally, and the pain exploded like shrapnel. Wherever he was, he was absolutely freezing. Matt shivered.

"He's waking up," said a-lightly-accented French voice. Dr. Michel. But why was Dr. Michel here? Chakwas was chief medical officer. Where was he? Matt forced his eyes open.

The medical bay was just like all the others he had ever been in. He was surrounded by gleaming white walls and gleaming white machines that did God-knew-what. The smell of antiseptic lingered heavily in the air. He could just see a redhaired figure bent over a console. "I adjusted the dosage like you asked. He should have been unconscious for a few more hours, at least."

Another figure came into view. Miranda. Matt's breaths came in short, shallow gasps for another reason now. He was hallucinating. Miranda was on the Citadel or some distant Cerberus base. This was some half-remembered echo of Lazarus Station, mixed with fragments of Michel's clinic. The imaginary Miranda had pulled her hair back and wore a labcoat devoid of any insignia. "It's the implants. It makes him almost impossible to sedate. I'm starting to think it simply can't be done for long no matter what the dosage."

"Miranda," Matt said. Or, rather, tried to say. The words came out as a hoarse sputtering,

She approached him slowly. Exhaustion clung to her like smoke, and worry lined her face. Her movements were measured, restrained. "Don't try to talk. I'm here. We're safe for now." She smoothed his hair with one hand. There was none of the brusque coldness he remembered from Lazarus. Her eyes were dark and clouded with grief and pain. She was still beautiful, but the way very old paintings were beautiful. She was a masterwork, but time and circumstance were waging a war with her. The part of his mind that was still addled by painkillers told him he ought to paint her like this: the perfect representation of a dying galaxy.

"I'm going to give you something for the pain and help you sleep. I promise, I'll explain everything when I can."

Matt didn't even have time to protest before he slipped into fitful unconsciousness. His dreams were a patchwork of horror. A Cerberus vessel appearing out of nowhere. Gunfire. An explosion. Chakwas slumping over her desk. A man with dark hair standing over her. Wires twining around him. His eyes were gone, replaced by goggles that glowed with pale light. He sneered. _Finally got you._

The next time he came to, the pain had receded to a dull ache. Michel was gone, but Miranda stood sentinel over a nearby console. "You're awake. Good."

"I sort of wish I wasn't." At least his voice sounded human this time. "What are you doing here? What am I doing here? This isn't the _Normandy."_

Miranda frowned. "What do you remember?"

"_Code Red…Cerberus has boarded."_

_These weren't anything like the troops he fought on Binthu. The strike team moved through the ship as if controlled by a single will._

_Matt sent a biotic blast reverberating through the armory. One soldier went flying through the air and hit the ground with a crunch. The others didn't flinch, didn't even notice._

_The assassin fired. Matt heard his own voice scream Chakwas' name. The assassin smiled. "Another Lazarus traitor down. Killing you off one by one." _

"I had a nightmare about the Normandy being attacked. It wasn't a nightmare, was it?"

Miranda shook her head and went to his bedside. "Cerberus tracked you. I don't know how yet. They sent Kai Leng after you."

"The one that killed Kelly?"

"The very same." Her voice was cold, but Matt knew the subtle variations in Miranda's ice now. This was rage that cut all the more for not being explosive. It was the rage she reserved for people who harmed those under her command. "Damage to the ship was minimal, but I'm afraid she will be in drydock for several days. There was only one casualty, but…" She bowed her head.

Matt didn't need her to finish. "Chakwas."

"I'm sorry."

"Damn." He and Chakwas had never been truly close—occasional shared drink aside—but she had been something better. She had been _familiar_, one of the few constants in his life as his allegiance had shifted from the Alliance to Cerberus and back again. She had believed and trusted in him in a way that even Kaidan hadn't. She'd survived so much that he assumed she would make it to the end. "I'm so sick of losing people."

"And he nearly got you, too." Her voice cracked. "That's why Liara called me. I'm the only person who isn't dead or indoctrinated that even remotely understands the technology you have inside you. It's nothing that won't heal with time now, but you had us all worried there for a while." She smiled weakly. "Then again giving the rest the galaxy a mild heart attack is what you do best."

"The only person I want to give a heart attack right now is Leng. Preferably if it involves ripping it from his chest." He winced. "Of course, first I'm going to have to figure out how not to get my ass handed to me."

Miranda's face was suddenly grave. Not just older. Serious, like some goddess who held the secrets of the universe and wished she didn't. "That's why I stayed after you were stabilized. You remember that I wanted to implant you with a control chip?"

Matt nodded. Learning that Miranda had wanted to mind control him had been one of his more unpleasant shocks upon returning to the land of the living.

"I wasn't sure what you'd be when you woke up. You might have gone insane and murdered us all. At least that's what I told myself. The Illusive Man was determined to bring you back exactly as you were, but I thought it was too dangerous. He wouldn't let me alter you directly, but you're almost as much machine as man. Any machine can be hacked."

Dread spiraled through him, slow and certain. "What did you do?"

"A virus. All I had to do was press a button on my omni-tool, and your implants would be under my control. I never got very far in developing it—had to do it on my own, and you proved very quickly that you were still the stubborn, brilliant fool that you always were-but I still have the preliminary work."

"Is there a point to reminding me how absolutely terrifying you are?" _How does it help me rip that bastard limb from limb?_

She smiled, and her eyes glittered with triumph. "You aren't the only one with Lazarus tech anymore. Everyone's favorite assassin has it, too."

Matt hauled himself into a sitting position. His limbs screamed in protest. "What do you need me to do?" The pain scraped at him like a dull knife, but it was good to be sitting up again. He was naked from the waist up, but bandages covered his chest. Glowing reddish-orange bits were visible between the gaps. Half medicine, half computer repair. Matt wasn't sure he liked the metaphor.

"Nothing right now. You're too weak. I'll be back in a few days, and we can discuss it then." She gripped his shoulder and gently pushed him down. "Try to get some rest."

"No." He grabbed her hand. "I'm strong enough for whatever you need done. If you keep coming back, Cerberus will start getting suspicious. And every day—every hour—we wait is time that you're not working on that virus." Fury overtook him. Not the hot, uncontrollable rage that had caused him to lash out at everything after Mindoir. No, this was something quieter and more easily directed that he had learned from her. "Leng's killed two of my crew already. I'm not going to let him kill more."

"You always were a stubborn ass." She grew serious. "The virus is in a crude, but workable state. I've run some simulations with the data I was able to salvage from Lazarus. Theoretically, I should be able to take limited control over nonvital systems. Theoretically. I'd need to test it on the actual implants to be sure.

"You want to hack me."

She nodded, and Matt shivered. After his biotics had manifested, he'd hid them from his own family to maintain control over his life. Then Miranda had waltzed into his living room and informed him that he was the most powerful human biotic seen to that point and had to be trained. He'd fought joining the military. Then batarian terrorists had struck his new home on Eden Prime. All his life he'd fought for control, and all his life, he'd lost. At least Miranda was asking this time.

_Killing you off one by one. _He didn't have a choice here either. "Do you remember the first time we met? You got me so angry with you that I attacked you with my biotics. I coughed up blood. Well, I'm willing to go through a lot more than that. Do it."

They stared at each other. Something like regret had settled itself in Miranda's eyes. It didn't quite suit her, like using modern paint to restore an Old Master. It would never match up, no matter how hard you tried. But she called up her omni-tool. "One finger. I'm going to take control of one finger. Specifically, your left index finger. Uploading virus now."

Nothing happened. Matt exhaled. "I guess that was a bust."

"I'm not done yet. Code Epsilon-347. Tap three times."

Matt's finger tapped the edge of the bed three times. There was no struggle. It simply followed the commands as simply and easily as if they had come from his brain. Matt watched in horror and fascination. "Was that what the control chip was supposed to do?"

"More or less. Code Delta-628. Scrubbing virus." Her own fingers convulsed suddenly. "I'm glad the Illusive Man turned me down. Father nearly killed me trying to turn me into what he wanted. What would I have done to you? A brilliant, passionate man destroyed in the name of safety and expediency. It's a price I'm glad I didn't have to pay."

Matt didn't answer. She would have destroyed him. His will would never been entirely his own. He would have been an automaton. It would have made some things easier. He wouldn't have gotten blind drunk after finding out that it was Cerberus that had trained him. Automatons didn't doubt, any more than saviors of the galaxy did. But they didn't fall in love, either. He cupped her cheek with his right hand and brushed the skin with the pad of his thumb.

She turned her face to kiss Matt's palm and fingers. Pleasant sparks of electricity coursed through him. She was gentle, the touch of her lips no lighter than a feather. Matt let her. There was a time he would have taken her in his arms, full of giddy passion and not having seen her in weeks. But he was too tired and angry to care. Another thing this war had taken from him. "I hope you don't have any attacks of conscience when it comes time to use this thing on Leng."

"Attack of conscience? No. I said I was glad I didn't have to sacrifice you. If it had been anyone else, I probably wouldn't feel the slightest pang of conscience." Her eyes narrowed. "Leng? I'll positively relish it."

Only a handful of people knew that his relationship with Miranda was genuine. Half of those saw it as a morality tale about the transformative power of love. Liara has waxed downright rhapsodic about how much he had changed her. But he had changed her at all, had he? Merely gotten himself classed in the same category as Oriana. She cared about him, enough to risk her life by being here to save his. But her moral compass pointed in the same direction it always had: For the Greater Good. She was like one of those dragons the hero befriended in old stories. Just because it wouldn't eat you didn't mean that it wouldn't eat the fellow it didn't care about.

He loved her. That didn't mean she wasn't terrifying. Goddesses were always terrifying. That was why they were goddesses.

She smiled sadly at him. "Michel can look after you from here. I'll be in touch when I can. And try to get some rest. For Chambers and Chakwas, if nothing else."

"For Chambers and Chakwas."


	4. The Galaxy or the Girl

_Fair warning: the first sentence contains a major spoiler for ME3. After much thought, __I've decided to use the backstory for Miranda that I created for Portrait, rather than bringing it in line with canon._

* * *

><p>The Prothean paced the length of the cargo hold. Not the way Grunt had paced this same room: full of energy that may explode into violence born of sheer boredom. The Prothean stalked, his movements graceful and precise. He didn't look like the statues at Ilos or the Collectors. More like the batarians with his four gold eyes and dark skin. But the batarians' eyes had never been poised on the tipping point between death and life. Here was someone who ought to be dead and wasn't. Not merely the way Matt was supposed to be dead. That had been barely an interruption. His friends and loved ones were still there. Comparing himself to a man who had outlived his entire civilization seemed insulting.<p>

His armored boots clattered on the deck. The Prothean was never without his armor, black and scarred from battles with too many indoctrinated friends. Perhaps he felt it would put the crew at ease. Maybe he felt safer. There were men who had come back from the Blitz scarred on the inside, so used to war that they were edgy without their weapons and armor. Matt's mother had told him the story of a knight so obsessed with justice that his ghost possessed and animated his armor, the better to punish evildoers. Perhaps the Prothean was the same: a construct kept alive only by his desire for retribution.

"Lieutenant Vega tells me you failed to acquire Rana Thanoptis."

"Yes," Matt ground out. "Cerberus got there first." Ever since the attack on the _Normandy_, Matt's luck had turned sour. Cerberus seemed determined to deny him every possible asset. And they were getting better at it. Miranda's intelligence had provided him a few small victories, but they had nowhere near the resources needed to build the Crucible. Cerberus's capture or extermination of scientists had been ruthless.

"Your mole is not as valuable as I was led to believe."

"Considering she's the only reason Cerberus hasn't completely trashed us, I'd say Miranda is doing plenty."

"She allows you to win skirmishes while you continue to lose the war. And yet you continue to expend far more energy than she warrants. A trip to the Citadel for no other reason than to see her when we should have been battling the Reapers. Conversations with no discernible strategic purpose."

Irritation simmered like boiling water in a teakettle. "I'm sorry Miranda hasn't provided the magic 'Win' button that you were expecting, but I can't spend every waking second in battle. Human brains aren't designed that way. I'm doing my job as best I can. The rachni and all the major mercenary groups are on our side. That's not nothing.

"I can feel her everywhere on the ship. Her presence is burned into the very walls. Her aura mingles with yours every time I attempt to sense you."

"Really?" Matt asked, fascinated despite himself. The Prothean's ability to sense people, even those long absent or dead, by touching objects that once belonged to them, intrigued him. It was the sort of thing that should have been magic, but wasn't. Frightening too. It made it almost impossible to lie in the Prothean's presence. "What do I look like? What does she look like?"

"You are like ice embedded in flesh. The ice is very beautifully carved, its colors shifting in the light, but the bleeding would be profuse were it ever removed." He shook his head. "Such close emotional entanglements are not good for soldiers. You must be willing to give up everything for victory. We need to win this war."

"And I need something to make this war bearable," Matt muttered. "I've sacrificed plenty." He closed his eyes. Tali had died from a suit rupture sustained in the ventilation shafts of the Collector Base. Garrus had given his life to see the crew safely back. He'd allowed Grunt to go to his death on Tuchanka so Matt could save the more valuable rachni allies. And, of course, there was the oldest and cruelest wound of all. He might have been a great artist whose work hung in galleries and museums all across the galaxy. Maybe. There was no way to know. He'd thrown away the chance before he could find out. "Plenty."

"But she is different." The gold eyes narrowed. "She should not be. You should treat her as-what is the human metaphor?—another piece on the chessboard, protected or sacrificed according to her value."

Irritation turned to anger. "You've never been in love, have you?"

At first, Matt thought the Prothean wouldn't answer. But then he said, "Another soldier in my unit. Very clever and determined we would drive the Reapers away somehow. The hope was… intoxicating. I gorged myself on him and his idealism." The weariness in his voice was gone, replaced by something sharp and bitter. "He was indoctrinated like the rest, in the end. I slit his throat last. So I know whereof I speak, human."

"I'm sorry." It was utterly inadequate, but what else could he say to a revelation like that?

"Do not apologize. Just remember that it may be your lover's throat that you have to slit someday. Every day we fight, a hundred thousand might be indoctrinated."

_No pressure or anything_. Miranda as an indoctrinated slave was something he preferred not to think about. Not merely for the obvious reasons. She has worked so hard to carve a life separate from her father's influence that having that independence he so loved stripped from her would degrade her more than anything Matt could imagine. Yes, he would kill her if it came to that and he hoped that she would do the same for him. As for sacrificing her for the sake of the mission, well he hadn't exactly coddled her during the assault on the Collector base. Miranda wouldn't have had it any other way; she'd been wounded while providing a distraction that allowed Matt and the rest of his team to reach the heart of the station. She was risking her life now by feeding him information about Cerberus while he sat half a galaxy away. No one could ask for more.

It was sometime later before Matt trooped up to the captain's quarters. By rights, he shouldn't have been here, but Kaidan said he felt awkward being so far away from the rest of the crew and having so much space. There were times Matt wondered if it wasn't his idea of a peace offering. He'd made good use of the space. A holographic map of the galaxy dominated one wall. Worlds held by the Alliance or its allies were in blue. Worlds confirmed overrun by the Reapers were in red. Planets or stations held by pirates or similar—those who weren't exactly allies but could be counted on to value their continued existence above all things—were green. Cerberus worlds were orange. Planets of unknown status were white.

There was far too much red and white on the map.

Matt pulled out his charcoal pencils and paper and drew. Miranda had always been a frequent subject, but even more so now that she was away from the _Normandy_. But this was not Miranda as she was now, but Miranda as she had been when he first met her as a teenager. She had been his biotics tutor, and had had the power to back it up. That power had come at a horrible price. Her biotics had not been the result of in-utero eezo exposure the way Matt's had been. Her father had implanted her nervous system with eezo nodules. She shouldn't have survived. As it was, she had been plagued by chronic pain and seizures. More than once, he'd gone to the house she'd rented expecting a lesson, only to find her confined to her bed. Overexertion could set her off. Hell, coffee had set her off. He'd given her a damn seizure the first time they'd had sex. New implants had curbed her power to merely above average instead of extraordinary, but they'd taken away the pain, too. When he'd met her again on Lazarus Station, he'd been determined to hate her for being Cerberus. That had lasted until he'd seen her shred a mech with her biotics. She didn't have to be careful anymore. He'd been too happy to hate her.

But it was the careful girl he wanted to capture. As exhausted and haunted as Miranda looked now, she had been worse. Things have gotten better. They would get better this time, too.

The computer beeped, indicating someone wanted to set up a private vid conversation. Matt frowned. The sender was private and the channel encrypted. Even Hackett hadn't gone to that level of secrecy when he told Matt about Kenson. Probably some warlord or someone else who didn't want it known that he was talking to the Alliance. Matt's gaze flickered to the map. Turning a green or white planet into a blue was a good thing, and it wouldn't cost him anything to find out what his mystery caller wanted.

The face on the screen made his blood run cold. It was a handsome face. High, perfectly sculpted cheekbones, pale skin, and piercing blue eyes. Everyone knew that face. Robert Eldfell was the richest, most powerful man in the galaxy. He could set the price of helium-3 with a snap of his fingers. His Arcian Foundation had jumped the field of genetics forward a century. But that wasn't what Matt thought of when he saw Eldfell. Eldfell had had three daughters. All had died tragically at a young age. The youngest, Claire, had died of a brain hemorrhage when she was sixteen. At least that was the story.

The truth was that Claire had run away and changed her name to Miranda Lawson.

Matt snarled. "What do _you_ want?" He wasn't by nature a vengeful man. The enemy of his enemy was his friend. There were only two people in the galaxy he truly hated: Kai Leng and Robert Eldfell. They weren't merely threats to be neutralized like mercenaries or the average Cerberus trooper. He wanted them dead in the most painful way he could devise. Eldfell had nearly killed Miranda just so he could have his shiny new biotic and coated himself in so much money and influence that even a Spectre couldn't touch him.

And yet, part of Matt's mind remained calm. Miranda had said she feared Eldfell and Cerberus were negotiating a deal for the return of Oriana. This could be his only chance to find out more about that, tip Miranda off. As much as he wished he could reach through the screen and crush Eldfell's windpipe, he had to keep the man talking.

"Very well. Straight to business, then." Eldfell's voice had the same clipped, precise quality as his daughter's. "I know you don't like me, Shepard, and frankly. I don't like you. Your escapades in Nos Astra set me back considerably. But I haven't gotten to where I am by holding grudges."

"And your point?"

"I want to make a deal. My agents have noticed you seem to be collecting a large amount of resources, as well as recruiting science teams. I can only assume it has something to do with this war. I can help. EAE's resources rival those of some species. Fuel for dreadnoughts, technical expertise, genetic modifications for your soldiers. Whatever you need, I can get you."

"And what do you want for this oh-so-generous contribution to saving your own hide?" Hell, Matt might even take him up on the offer. He could bleed the man and his company dry before he disemboweled him with a rusty knife. And like it or not, his resources could be useful. Those technical experts could go a long way towards building the Crucible.

"It's very simple. I want my daughter. It was your intervention that denied her to me. That makes you the most logical person to hire to get her back."

"Not on your life."

"Be reasonable, Commander. Oriana is my daughter. Any jury in Citadel space would convict Claire of kidnapping. I only want what's mine."

"So you can implant her with eezo and give her demands no one can meet? No thanks."

Eldfell didn't even blink. "By the time Claire was twenty, she had already trained you. Flawed and defective as she is, she's had an enormous impact on the galaxy. What has Oriana done? Mooned after some boy?" He continued, his voice smooth and even, "Let's grant that I am as horrible a father as you seem to think I am. Oriana's life will be ruined. Very well. I'm offering to help you save the galaxy. You might be able to do it without me, but you might not. Is one twenty-year-old—who, as far as I can tell you've never even met—worth the lives of trillions?"

Perhaps he should have considered it. This was exactly the sort of sacrifice the Prothean had spoken of: the happiness of a few for the good of the many. Even Miranda might have considered it, had it been anyone else's little sister on offer. But memory overpowered him.

_Miranda's skin was ashen, and her eyes were glazed with pain. The pillows surrounding her on the bed made her look small and frail. Matt knelt over her. This was as bad as he had ever seen her. He wondered if she even knew he was here. He brushed her lips with his own like some fairytale prince. But no miracles occurred. There was nothing he or anyone else could do. Except stay with her. So he did._

_The scene shifted. Miranda was no longer frail. Her eyes shone with rage, betrayal, and disbelief as she leveled the gun at Niket. "You took his money? You _knew_ what kind of man my father was and you took his money?"_

_"Don't get holy with me, Miri. You took his money for years."_

No, Matt wasn't that faithless. He would give the Illusive Man the base he coveted. He would brainwash heretic geth. But this? It would break Miranda, and it would break him. "She's worth more than you'll ever be. Let me make this absolutely clear to you. Not only will I not help you get Oriana back, I will personally hunt you down and hit you with a biotic blast so strong that they will never find all the pieces of your corpse if you even so much as think about coming after her."

"So melodramatic." Eldfell made a show of checking his fingernails. "Oh, well. I'm sure there are others who are willing to make a deal. Goodbye, commander." The screen winked off.

Others? _Cerberus. He means Cerberus._ Matt broke into a sweat. Even if the Illusive Man believed Miranda to be a perfectly loyal operative, Matt had no doubts what choice he would make if Eldfell offered him the same deal. He'd been a fool who let his temper get the better of him. He should have strung Eldfell along. Instead, he'd placed Oriana in danger as surely as if he had kidnapped her. He had to talk to Miranda. He pulled the communicator from a desk drawer and prayed she was somewhere where they could talk.

Miranda's face was pale, but her eyes were sharp and alert. "Matt? I'm glad you called. I've got a lead for you. Kahlee Sanders. She's had run-ins with Cerberus in the past, but she's also a brilliant scientist and—what's wrong? You look like you've seen a ghost."

"In a manner of speaking." He relayed the conversation he'd just had, the words coming faster and faster as he did so. Miranda listened quietly, the only sign of emotion a slight thinning of her lips. Matt finished and waited for the axe to fall.

It didn't, at least not in the way he was expecting. "He would have kept his word, you know," she said softly. "Given you everything you asked and more."

"You're not angry that I might have just pushed him to Cerberus?"

"Considering that I wouldn't have gotten half as far in the conversation, I don't think I'm in a position to judge, really." She stared at him. There was no ice in her gaze, but the appraisal still made him feel as if she could see everything about him. "I need to know that you didn't do this because of me. Because my father is right, as much as I hate to admit it: his help could make the difference between victory and defeat."

"Your father is scum." He might've actually been conflicted over handing someone else over to their abusive father, but he still would have made the same decision. Right? It was one of those things that was simply Not Done, no matter how desperate you were. Never mind that he never would have known exactly how abusive Eldfell could be if he wasn't Miranda's father, too. Never mind that he had seen Miranda's eyes shine with love and pride every time she mentioned her little sister. Never mind that he had seen what killing Niket had done to her. Never mind any of that. He'd still done the right thing. The personal connection just made it easier.

"Oh, Matt." Her voice cracked. "I knew this was stupid. You should be focused on saving the galaxy, not my sister."

"You would have done the same thing."

"Because she's my sister." She laughed bitterly. "It's funny. Everyone always talks as if love is the best thing in the world. They don't mention how weak it can make you. Letting the galaxy burn because of one girl. And I'd do it, just as you would."

"Hey! It's not weakness. It's human. Having a modicum of decency is what separates us from people like your father. And he isn't the only wealthy man out there. Most of them won't even lay conditions on saving their lives." Matt's hand hovered over the holographic image of Miranda. He wished desperately he could hug her. "We just need to convince them." _Whatever the price, I'll pay it. As long as it isn't this._

Miranda shook her head, her eyes bright. "You amaze me." She swallowed. "I need to go. It won't be long before my father approaches the Illusive Man. I need to hide Oriana. And myself. Cerberus will see me more of a liability now than an asset. I just wish that I could have helped you more."

"You did plenty. If you need a place to stay, you can use the apartment on Intai'sei. Nice view. I think you'll like it. It's the least I can do, after everything."

"Thank you," she whispered.

"It's just an apartment."

"Not for that."

"Oh." He blushed. "I'll, ah, let you go. I'm sure you have a thousand preparations to make."

He cut the communicator off and slumped into the nearest chair. The map loomed above him, mocking. "Well, what did you want me to do?" Matt asked no one in particular. "Ruin her life on the chance that it would make a difference?"

The red lights gleamed in the darkness.


	5. Domestic Bliss

Intai'sei reminded Matt of Mindoir. The sky was the same mixture of red and gold, and the breeze rolled gently over the hills. Just looking at it, he might have mistaken it for home. But Mindoir had never had this oppressive heat that clogged his nostrils. It was beautiful, but he couldn't imagine this place as anything more than a temporary base of operations—or a safe haven for hunted former Cerberus officers.

Miranda's message had been brief: the virus was complete and ready for upload to his omni-tool. Matt clenched his fist. One step closer to killing Leng and allowing Kelly and Dr. Chakwas to rest in peace. This was too important for him not to pick up personally. There were other compensations as well. He had only seen Miranda twice since his forced return to Earth, and then only for a few minutes. But this time? The _Normandy _was in orbit while the crew performed routine maintenance. He and Miranda could have an entire day to themselves.

Matt was greeted by a blast of blessedly cold air when he opened the door. The low hum of the cooling unit reverberated through the air. The living room was clean and spare, but even here there were signs of fresh human habitation. A book lay on the armrest of one chair. Matt picked it up and examined it idly. _Powered Upper Limb Prostheses: Control, Implementation and Clinical Application_. Definitely Miranda's. "Miranda?"

"In here," came a voice from the bedroom.

The room was much as Matt remembered it from the few times he'd slept here. Sunlight filtered in through a large window in the north wall, making the green carpet and pale walls richer and more lively than any colonial apartment had a right to be. The double bed had been made. The rest of the room was dominated by a large desk. Papers were scattered everywhere, and a computer whirred and beeped with activity.

Miranda rose to greet him. Matt inhaled sharply. The exhaustion that had seemed her constant companion had sloughed away like dead skin. Her perfectly sculpted face had been made for enthusiasm; energy transformed the uncanny into the radiant. Even her movements seemed more fluid and graceful. "I've got it. With the push of a button, you can take control of Leng's gross motor functions. Fine motor skills are proving a bit tricky at the moment, so you can't make him pull a trigger, but you can stop him from pointing a gun at you."

Matt turned on his omni-tool. A stream of data that he didn't even pretend to understand flashed across the screen. "I give him verbal commands the same as you did with me, right?"

She nodded. "He'll fight you, but it should neutralize him fairly effectively in a fight. Theoretically, anyway. It's all simulations until we can test it on Leng himself."

Matt raised an eyebrow. "Does this mean you aren't going to hack me again?"

Miranda shook her head. "It won't get me anymore useful data. Leng uses a modified version of your implants. That's why he's so much faster and stronger than you are. He's top-of-the-line." Her eyes glittered. "For the moment."

"For the moment?"

"I had some free time on my hands while I was waiting for you to come. Between you and Leng, I feel like I've eaten, slept, and breathed Lazarus for the last three years. Billions of credits and thousands of man-hours for two people. When I started on the project, I thought it was a waste of Cerberus resources. You were—are—extraordinary, but you were still just one person. But suppose we could mass-produce some of your upgrades?"

She gestured at the papers on the desk. "I've been working on some ideas. Not even close to the prototype stage at this point. Mostly just trying to get my thoughts down."

Matt picked up the nearest sheet. It was covered with cross-sections of various human organs. Eyes, hearts, stomachs, all rendered competently but unremarkably. She'd scribbled various mathematical formulas in the margins, crossing out some and circling others. Miranda's handwriting was cramped and nearly illegible at the best of times, but the technical jargon didn't help. "I don't understand a word of this."

"And I don't understand what you see when you look at a Caravaggio. I suppose that makes us even." She smirked. "But what I did for you can be done for others. You asked me once what Cerberus stood for, and I told you that it was the advancement of the human race. I don't know if the Illusive Man ever believed that, or if it was a lie that he told me to ensure my loyalty, but _I _still believe. After the war, I'm going to do my best to help humanity, not just a few people with money and power."

Matt watched her. She'd told him that she lacked fire. That was a lie. Her fire was on display before him, and that fire was what drew him back to her again and again. Yes, she was beautiful but so was Aish Ashland or the Consort. Attractive women were everywhere. But passion? That was harder to find. Miranda had devoted her life to an ideal, and she had done it without being twisted into a xenophobe or a monster. Beauty and brains made her appealing. Dedication and drive made her irresistible. Matt had followed her when he'd had nothing else.

Her gaze flickered. "If we even win this war."

"I picked up Dr. Sanders on the way here. Binary Helix, Synthetic Insights, and Kassa Fabrications are all behind us a hundred percent." He took her hands in his. "So I'd say our chances are looking pretty good." Miranda would get a chance to create her better world. He'd see to that. "So, how are you? Is Oriana okay?"

"I'd feel better if she were here with me, but she won't leave her parents. They couldn't come here, and I couldn't find a safehouse on Feros that quickly. I've made sure she can still contact me, but…" She straightened. "I wish I could do more. I hate sitting on the sidelines. At least I can help you with Leng."

"Always a place for you on the _Normandy._"

"Like there was a place for Jack?" She smiled sadly. "I was Cerberus for years. The Alliance probably still has orders to kill or arrest me on sight. The crew would always view me with suspicion. And this time, I'd be little more than a common soldier. More of a hindrance than help."

The hell of it was that she wasn't wrong. The crew would mistrust her. It was one thing for Ken and Gabby to be welcomed back. They had only joined Cerberus in the first place to fight the Reapers. Miranda had spent her entire adult life with them. She had been "the enemy" for twenty years. There would always be whispers that she was actually a spy planted by the Illusive Man. He could force them to work with her, but she'd never be anything more than a grunt unless she brought some new intelligence or resources with her. Matt had destroyed any chance of that when he had turned down Eldfell's offer. "I still miss you."

"Well, we still have today, don't we?" She traced his bicep with one finger, and her eyes glittered with mischief and desire. "I'm sure you can think of something to fill the time."

Matt grinned. "I'm afraid I have no idea what you mean, Ms. Lawson."

"Well, I suppose I'll simply have to show you, commander."

She brushed her lips against him, playful and unhurried. A tingle raced down Matt's spine. They'd always had to hurry. Always had to be careful. They were never supposed to be anything more than teacher and student or commanding and executive officer. Or there were Cerberus assassins after them. Their relationship was one stolen moment after another. But, just this once, they could take their time.

He followed her lead, molding his lips to hers. Her mouth was soft and warm. Not the oppressive heat of outside, but something that could make him feel safe and secure. The scent of jasmine filled his nostrils. Miranda's hands roamed his back, following the curves of his muscles. Matt pulled her close with one hand, and tangled the other in her hair.

He moved over her cheek to kiss along her jawline and down to the nape of her neck. Her skin tasted salty in his mouth. Miranda's breath came in ragged, pleased gasps. Matt had always loved the sound of them. They were reminders that he could affect her just as she affected him.

Her face was pleasantly flushed when she pulled back. "I knew you'd get the general idea."

He laughed. "You know me. I always was a quick study."

"Good." She shoved him with such sudden force that Matt tumbled onto the bed with a soft "oof." Miranda loomed over him. There was a different glint in her eyes now: predatory and possessive. Biotic power raced along her body like lightning that she had bent to her will. "Because I'm just getting started."

* * *

><p>Miranda pillowed her head on Matt's shoulder and her breath tickled against him. Neither of them spoke. Matt liked the stillness. No need to jump from her bed and try to figure out which cover story to use this time. Instead, he stroked her hair. He'd always liked how glossy and thick her hair was. A simple, exquisite luxury just to be able to sift through it like this.<p>

The war felt very far away. Not gone, but distant. The visible part of Miranda's face was smooth and unlined, Matt shifted to get a better view. Naked, she was a marvel. He'd almost forgotten how much so. The toned muscles of her stomach, the mole on her right breast. The easy sensuality that was as much a part of her as her professionalism. He'd love to paint her like this. Maybe in oils. It had been years since he'd painted properly, but Miranda deserved a proper canvas. His brain whirred. Nothing so blatant as having her stare at the viewer as if daring him to take her. She was sexual but he had to capture her power as well. A queen awaiting her lover, affairs of state never quite banished from her mind.

"I just gave you a fantastic sex, and you're thinking about art."

Matt opened his mouth to protest.

"You always get that look on your face when you're planning a drawing." Her smile was lazy. "So, what's it to be this time? Charcoal? Colored pencils?"

"Oils."

"Oils?" She frowned. "Bit more time-consuming than you're used to, isn't it?"

"Yeah." The medium had come to him before he'd thought of the practicalities. There would be preliminary sketches, considering and rejecting dozens of ideas before he ever placed his brush to canvas. This wasn't the sort of thing he could fit in during his downtime on the _Normandy_. He'd chosen charcoal and colored pencils as his primary medium because they were easy to store and work with even aboard the limited space of a starship, But even with only the germ of an idea, he knew he would need something grander. "I think it's time I started stretching myself again. Probably have to do a few warm-up pieces first."

It would have to wait until after the war was over. After. He'd never allowed himself to think about after. The Alliance and Cerberus had sent him on the missions they couldn't send anyone else. He was always vaguely surprised to come back alive. But he kept coming back. Somewhere along the way, he'd forgotten to ask himself what he was coming back for. "I used to be so ambitious. I was going to be a great artist. But now…" He cupped her cheek. "I want to paint you, give you what you deserve. And I want to keep doing it. For once in my life, I want to _stay_."

Miranda didn't say anything at first, and Matt was terrified he'd said the wrong thing. They'd never really discussed the future. It had seemed presumptuous with the Reapers out there. Now that the idea had entered his head, though, it wouldn't leave. He could have a future. With her. Instead of just seeing that she had a galaxy to make better, he could help her build it. If that was what she wanted.

"Matt," she said, her voice cracking almost imperceptibly. "I'm not really good at the whole 'normal life' thing. I tried, and it didn't work. There isn't going to be to two-and-a-half children and a white picket fence for me no matter what happens to the Reapers."

"I don't want normal. I want the woman who's planning to mass-produce Lazarus."

"You say that now," she said in exactly the same tone she once used to explain basic biotic principles. "But we've never really had the chance to be normal. This whole relationship has been one crisis after another. What happens when that's gone?"

This was the part of the movie where the hero was supposed to make a big romantic speech that swept away the girl's doubts and smoothed the path to happily ever after. It was a lot easier on the vidscreen. She was right. They'd never had the thousand mundane intimacies a normal couple took for granted. They'd never had to divvy up household chores or set a budget. "I'm not asking you to marry me. But I want to try to make this work. I—" _I love you. _"–I want you in my life. I'll always want you in my life. I think we've both earned at least a shot at a happy ending."

He watched as emotions flickered across Miranda's face in rapid succession: disbelief, hope, fear. "Someday, I'm going to break your heart. But yes, I'll try." She kissed him, and there was the faintest trace of moisture on her skin. Sweat or tears. No way to be sure.

"So," she said when she pulled back. "do you want some lunch? I saw some questionable-looking chicken in the freezer."

His stomach growled. "Chicken sounds lovely." Such a small thing, having dinner. But maybe it was a start.


	6. Stealing Fire

_Well, this is it. The last chapter. I hope you've enjoyed. Don't forget to drop a review. The repeated use of "stealing fire from the gods" (and the chapter title) is a nod to Deus Ex: Human Revolution. There may be an epilogue, should reader interest warrant it._

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><p>Matt looked like hell, even if he was only a hologram. His auburn hair was matted to his scalp, and angry welts dotted his face. His smile, though, was the grimly triumphant one she had seen on the newsvids after the Battle of the Citadel. "The bastard's dead. Your virus worked like a charm." He winced. "Mostly. And I think I can safely say that the corpse is in no condition for a repeat of Lazarus. These biotics of mine are good for something after all."<p>

Dead. Leng was dead. Miranda closed her eyes. She had not been able to save Chambers, but she had played some small part in avenging her. It was a small comfort, but it was a comfort. The Illusive Man had lost his new second-in-command. It wouldn't completely destroy Cerberus, but it would hamstring them and allow the Alliance and its allies to devote more resources toward the Reapers. "Did you ever find out what he was out there for?"

"He was sent to capture a Dr. Brynn Cole and her team, but we got there in time. Do you know the name?"

"I recruited her into Cerberus personally." She had been a brilliant neurologist, frustrated by red tape that wouldn't allow her to pursue experiments that would have made greyboxes safer. Miranda had hoped to make her part of Lazarus, but the Illusive Man had wanted her elsewhere. A lucky break for Dr. Cole.

"Well, it turns out that she and her team were doing research into indoctrination. Everyone was working on only a small piece of the project, and people were 'retired' when they finished their bit, so it took them a while to put the pieces together. When they did, they went rogue. Working on a counter now. Guess who they recruited to help them out?" His grin turned boyish. "Jacob."

Jacob was alive? Thank God. Jacob had resigned from Cerberus after the return from the Collector base, saying that he didn't think it was for him. After seeing the colonists processed, Miranda couldn't blame him. That hadn't made not knowing any less torturous. "Is he all right?"

"Fine. Better than fine if what I caught him and Dr. Cole doing in the supply closet was any indication. He can't wait to see you again."

So, Jacob had found someone. Miranda smiled. Jacob hadn't been right for her, nor she for him, but he was a good man who deserved some happiness. "When this war is over…"

"No need to wait that long. The brass took one look at my mission report, and they want to have a chat with Dr. Cole. When I told them how Leng had died and about all the intel you passed me, they were ecstatic." He straightened and clasped his hands behind his back. "Miranda Lawson, I've been ordered to bring you aboard the _Normandy_ for a meeting with Ambassador Osaba. So, it looks like the crew is going to have to stand you, after all."

The human ambassador wanted to talk to her? "Did he say what for?"

"He wouldn't tell me. I'm just the delivery guy. Probably wants you to tell him everything you know about Cerberus so he can take the credit when we finally get the Illusive Man."

* * *

><p>The <em>Normandy<em> was quieter now. Miranda had made a point of familiarizing herself with the names and histories of those who had served under her, but these Alliance crewmen were a sea of faceless blue. Several of them glanced upward as she passed, but there were no calls for her arrest or screams of "Traitor!" Matt walked beside her. He was in full Commander Shepard mode, striding through the deck as if it belonged to him in truth, all confidence and swagger.

"Well, well. Never thought I'd see you on an Alliance ship," said a familiar voice. "Then again, I thought I'd never be on one again, either."

Miranda turned. Jacob had scarcely changed. He'd shaved his head again, and there were a few cuts and bruises she didn't remember him having, but he was otherwise unchanged. One person who hadn't died or turned on her. Miranda walked toward him, uncertain. What did you say to an ex-boyfriend you hadn't seen in almost a year? What did you do? A handshake seemed far too formal, and a hug presumed too much.

"Glad you made it," Jacob said at last. "I was worried Cerberus would stab you in the back or stuff you full of indoctrination tech."

Miranda smiled. "Really, Jacob. I'd have thought you'd have learned by now that I know how to take care of myself. I'm fine." She wondered if she would ever grow accustomed to others worrying about her, caring whether she lived or died for her own sake instead of as a means to an end. "You're looking well."

"Yeah, well, running for your life does kind of keep you in shape. That Kai Leng was one tenacious son of a bitch. If Shepard hadn't shut him down, you'd be talking to my corpse right now."

"Don't be so modest, Jacob. I couldn't have done it without you. But Miranda's the person you should really be thanking."

"Well, I'm going to thank all three of you if it's all the same to you," said Dr. Cole as she came up behind them. She was almost painfully thin, and looked as if she hadn't slept in days, but her gaze was alert and penetrating. She looked Miranda up and down. Miranda didn't flinch. The other woman would find no rival in her. "Of course, if it wasn't for Ms. Lawson, none of this might ever have happened. The reality of Cerberus was quite different from the portrait you painted."

"Believe me, this was not my Cerberus. Yours either."

The other woman didn't seem to hear her. "I should have looked closer, known better. All those people Cerberus has indoctrinated. Could they have done it without me? And I never would have joined them if you hadn't promised me I could research in peace. I thought I would finally unlock the key to a perfect memory. Instead I took away their minds. Some human advancement."

Miranda didn't answer her. She had believed every word she'd told Dr. Cole when she brought her into Cerberus. There were those who wished to keep humanity weak and powerless. They had to forge their own path and not rely on the generosity of other species. Fire could be stolen from the gods, but it had to be stolen. The gods would never give it away of their own free will. All the knowledge in the galaxy could be taken by those clever and ambitious enough. That was the dream the Illusive Man had given her. It was the one she had shared with Dr. Cole.

The Illusive Man had perverted it into a nightmare. She couldn't be blamed for that. Could she?

It was Matt who finally answered. "And now you're working on a cure. That would be impossible without you, too. Try to focus on that. And get some rest. We've all been through a lot."

"I'll try. I don't know what good it will do, but I'll try." And with that, she and Jacob walked off.

"It's not my fault," Miranda said after she and Matt had stepped into the elevator. "I would never have sanctioned any of what's gone on for the last year. We were supposed to make humanity strong, not drive it to extinction! I don't know what the Illusive Man was thinking. I wonder if I ever will."

"I'll see if I can force Liara to brain probe him if we ever do get our hands on him. Never trusted him, but this is a lot worse than I ever thought Cerberus was. Why couldn't they all be like you?"

"I thought we were." There had been a time when Miranda believed that Cerberus was mostly comprised of people like her. Xenophobes like Leng were useful fools, but she was the true face of the organization. Cerberus existed to give people like Dr. Cole the freedom to advance humanity. It was not supposed to give people like Gavin Archer the power to commit pointless cruelty and nearly destroy the galaxy in the process. But the joke had turned out to be on her. "All the good I did—Lazarus, saving the Citadel, training you—wiped out by madmen."

Matt put his hand on her shoulder. "Not wiped out. Never wiped out. Yeah, Cerberus went off the deep end, but that doesn't negate everything you accomplished. I'm still breathing. That has to count for something."

Miranda smiled at him, but the thought still nagged at her. The war, not Lazarus or stopping the Collectors, would be Cerberus' legacy in the minds of the rest of the galaxy. Perhaps justly, if the Illusive Man had been insane from the start. There would be nothing spurring humanity on in the best sense, skirting the rules in pursuit of the greater good. At least not for a very long time. Cerberus would become a byword for hubris. She'd avoid prison—a pardon was the bare minimum the ambassador would offer her in exchange for all she could tell him—but all she worked for would be swept under the rug. Miranda would find backers to help her re-create and mass produce the technology from Lazarus, but it would take a very long time. The galaxy would be suspicious of anything that bore the taint of Cerberus. As if ideas and technology could be tainted.

They stepped into the briefing room. This place, at least, had not changed in the slightest. "Patch me through to the Citadel, Ms. Traynor."

There was a beep, and a perfect three-dimensional likeness of the ambassador stood in the room. He was tall, with artfully graying hair perfectly coiffed. He didn't look like a distinguished man as much as he looked like a man trying to appear distinguished. Typical politician, in other words. "Ms. Lawson? David Osaba. Commander Shepard tells me you've been invaluable in his efforts to bring down Cerberus."

Miranda chose her next words carefully. What would help her here? "I have been responsible for several victories, yes, including technology that allowed Commander Shepard to kill the Cerberus second-in-command. I suppose you'll want to know the details."

He picked up a datapad. "I have the details. If I wanted you debriefed, I would have sent AIS, not your former commanding officer. No, what I want to know is why. According to reports, you've served with them all your adult life. Why turn against them now?" He indicated Matt. "Was it for love? There were rumors that he was more than your commanding officer."

Miranda started. "No, I didn't do it for him. I believe in a stronger humanity, but Cerberus offered only atrocity after atrocity. They're making humanity weaker, not stronger."

"And what does a stronger humanity mean to you, exactly? Dominance, crushing the other races under our heel?"

Miranda shook her head. "We can learn from the other races. We can work with them. But it has to be on the understanding that our interests don't always coincide with theirs. We got our Council seat because the Battle of the Citadel proved we were too strong to be ignored. We have to stay strong. Keep pushing the envelope instead of resting on our laurels."

"Occasionally breaking Council law, if necessary? Purely a hypothetical question, I assure you."

"If there's no other way. Hypothetically."

Osaba steepled his fingers. "You are aware that until very recently the Alliance and Cerberus had an extremely close relationship? They did our dirty work for us, things we needed done but couldn't be seen doing if we didn't want to end up like the batarians."

"I know. You know I know. What's going on, Ambassador?"

"The Reapers are eviscerating us, Ms. Lawson. Two entire fleets lost. Billions of people dying on Earth even as we speak. Commander Shepard assures me we can win this war, but even if we do, humanity has taken a severe blow. If we're going to keep our place in the galaxy, we may have to do things that aren't entirely legal. The Alliance is going to need a black ops organization that can keep doing what needs be done."

"And you want me to join up?" Not a horrible offer, and not entirely unexpected.. She had value as an experienced intelligence officer. The Alliance would still choke her with red tape, but it beat some of the things they could have done. And nothing was permanent, anyway.

"No, Ms. Lawson, I want you to _lead_ it. I know all about the Lazarus Project. We need that kind of ambition and drive if we're going to succeed. You get results and you keep getting results. And you do it without things like Teltin or the Grayson affair. I'm impressed."

For the first time in twenty years, Miranda found herself at a loss for words. Her status as the Illusive Man's second-in-command had always been a purely theoretical affair. In practice, she was no different from any other cell leader. The Illusive Man was Cerberus and vice versa. The idea of running her own organization was exhilarating. And terrifying. If she would even be given the freedom to do so. "And on just how tight a leash would the Alliance keep its new dog?"

"A very, very long one. You'd have specific goals, but I'd leave it to you and your people how to prioritize and accomplish them. I want someone who's going to steal fire from the gods and you can't do that if I'm watching your every move." He smiled. "Besides, it makes plausible deniability that much easier."

_Steal fire from the gods__._ "I think—I think we can work something out. Contingent on a pardon for anything I may or may not have done during my time with Cerberus and adequate compensation."

"My office will be in touch. I look forward to working with you, Ms. Lawson." Osaba pressed a button and vanished.

Miranda let out a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding. "I can't believe that just happened. If he's telling the truth…" She could create an organization that truly advanced humanity. No more Teltins or Overlords. There could be true oversight without callousness or crippling red tape. Humanity would ascend without casting the other races down.

"If he's telling the truth," Matt said, "you could make Cerberus like you always thought it was. On the government's credit. Going to be a lot easier to mass produce Lazarus now, I bet. Illusive Woman. I like the sound of that."

"Please, don't call me that."

"Yes...Illusive Woman."

She punched him in the shoulder. "Ass. But do you realize what this means? Government sanction, after a fashion, for my work. That much easier to have a _life._ A relationship with my sister that consists of something besides emails. And serve humanity at the same time. Everything I ever wanted."

"Hope I'm in there somewhere."

"Hmm. Now what could I possibly want with a handsome young artist who believed in me even when I didn't believe in myself?" Miranda put her arms around him. He was warm and solid, a hard and unyielding wall of muscle. "There's a place for you. Right here. With me," she whispered against him.

"Come on," she said when she pulled away. "We have a galaxy to save." _And transform._


	7. Epilogue

_And this is it: the really, honest to God finale._

* * *

><p>Miranda had sat for Matt exactly once before she understood why models were paid. She was stiff from lying in one position for too long. It was bloody cold in the studio when she was nude. Her nose itched. No sane person would do this without being paid. Miranda was clearly insane. Not only was she doing this for free, she'd married the sadist in front of the easel.<p>

There were compensations. Matt said that he loved her drive to make humanity strong, to push limits until they were shattered into a thousand pieces. Well, he had his passions, too. His blue eyes were intense as he stared at her. Miranda had been stared at all her life. She had been designed to elicit desire in men and women alike. The hungry glances were something to ignore, take advantage of, or enjoy, depending on the situation. Matt did not simply ogle her. There was hunger in his gaze, to be sure, blazing steadily like a fire behind a grate, but that was never all that there was. He looked at her as if she was the key to some new world. As if she had the power to bring forth all the glory and grandeur the galaxy had to offer. He didn't treat her as merely a collection of skills to be used, but he didn't demand that she hide her gifts and become like everyone else. And he would be there to capture her both as she changed the world and as she lived in it.

He was an alchemist, transforming oil paint or charcoal into creations that leapt from the page or canvas with a vitality all their own. His subjects were stripped down to their purest essences and reborn in a world that didn't demand that they be less than they were. Perhaps that was why this wonderful, improbable relationship worked despite everything. They both saw the world as it was and as it ought to be, but also saw no reason it couldn't be transformed from one to the other.

He put down his brush. "Done for now. One more session, and I should have everything I need."

"Oh, thank God." She rose to her feet gingerly and worked the crick from her neck. She didn't ask to see the painting. Matt's work was shown when it was done and not before. Not even to her.

The fire in his eyes grew brighter as he looked her up and down. "Any chance I could get you to skip the whole putting clothes on thing?"

Tempting, very tempting. "After that torture you put me through?"

He put the paints away. "Torture, huh? If I wanted to torture you, you'd know it. You'd be begging me to stop."

A playful mood tonight? Miranda could work with that. She walked toward him slowly, savoring the look on his face as he watched the subtle sway of her hips. Her hand hovered over his chest. "That almost sounds like a challenge, Matt. I never could resist a challenge."

"That so?" He leaned in close. Heat rolled off him in waves. This was going to be _fun_.

"My fatal—"

The mechanical voice of the household VI echoed through the room. "Incoming call. Project Prometheus. Priority: Beta."

Miranda swore under her breath. "Hold that thought."

Miranda tossed on a robe and headed to the basement. When she had created Project Prometheus to replace Cerberus, she knew she would have to do things differently. Not merely in the obvious things, but in the small as well. The Illusive Man had committed suicide before they learned what drove him to madness, but Miranda reasoned his near-complete isolation from the species he purported to save had played its part in skewing his perspective. She would have no headquarters at some distant space station. Her work was critical, but it would exist alongside her marriage and her relationship with Oriana.

Having a normal life and running a black ops organization presented certain challenges. Matt had long since retired from the Alliance, but he would always be famous. Allowing anyone but Jacob and Brynn to know exactly who they worked for would have been disastrous. The specially-constructed comm had been her solution. Not only did it allow her to communicate to any of a number of cell leaders, it projected any image she wished to show. Her favorite was a ravishing blonde in a charcoal gray suit. Close enough to the truth that she could use her natural body language, but not so close that anyone would immediately make the connection.

Amanda Linley was one of Prometheus' rising stars. Brilliant and driven with just enough ethics to keep from becoming a problem. It was she Miranda had given the task of increasing the percentage of eezo exposures that resulted in biotics and eliminating eezo-caused cancers. In time, every child exposed to element zero in-utero would develop biotics. Long ago, she had promised Matt a world where biotics were an unmitigated good. No one would ever suffer the agonizing pain she had or lose their daughter to a brain tumor. It was a promise Miranda intended to honor.

Linley's eyes were bright with enthusiasm. "Ma'am, I don't want to get you too excited, but I think we've got something. Neural tissue based on that of subjects with the target genes responded perfectly. Just as powerful as the original, with no sign of cancer, even after we modified it. I think we're almost ready to expose a fetus to eezo."

Miranda smiled. Matt would be thrilled. "Excellent. Keep me posted, doctor." She switched off the comm.

Matt was still in the studio when she got back, frowning over the canvas. "Needs a little something…" He looked up at her. "I gather the biotics project is going well."

"How did you know it was that one?"

"Because," he said with a slow, easy smile, "nothing else puts quite that sparkle in your eyes. That cell is your baby."

"I still owe you for letting Linley use your DNA."

He looked at the canvas. "We could have another session. Just a couple more hours." Miranda glared at him, and he threw up his hands. "Kidding!"

Miranda closed the distance between them and ran a finger down his chest. "Or we could finish what we were doing before we were so rudely interrupted. I believe you were boasting you could make me beg you to stop."

Matt sucked in a breath. "So we were."

He kissed her. A slow, almost chaste kiss, the sort he'd given her as a boy when he'd been terrified his slightest touch could send her into agony. But this was different. There was no terror here. This was…leisurely. He moved outward from her lips, over her cheeks, and down the line of her jaw. He didn't linger, staying only long enough to ignite a spark on her skin and let it die again. "You can do better than that."

"Not here," he whispered.

Miranda understood. She took him by the hand and led him to the bedroom. She never looked back, didn't need to. The heat of his gaze rolled off him now. She flung open the door, and they stumbled inside. This room was pure indulgence, all Thessian silk and Bekenstein oak. Miranda let his hand go, stood next to the bed. She raised an eyebrow. "Better?"

"Much." And then he was on her, mouth and hands exploring her. One hand tangled in her hair while the other traced the curve of her neck. His mouth followed his fingers, nipping down the column of her throat. He wasn't gentle. There was no need to be gentle. He could do as he liked. She could do as she liked. And what Miranda liked was the insistent scrape of his teeth against her.

He reached for her robe, but Miranda shook her head. Far more fun to do it herself and give him a little show. She pulled it back slowly, letting silk rasp against her skin. Decadent, that. Miranda had discovered she liked decadent. Matt was still as he watched her, but his muscles were coiled, as if he were a tiger that might pounce at any moment. The robe fell to the floor, and still he drunk her in.

She sauntered to him. "This would go much faster if you'd take off your clothes." She leaned in to whisper in his ear, "I want to see you."

That seemed to galvanize him. Matt stepped backwards and quickly stripped away his clothes. Miranda would never tire of looking at him. He was, after all, her creation. The well defined biceps, the broad shoulders, even his cock. All were her handiwork. Time to enjoy the fruits of her labor.

She lay down on the bed. Matt didn't immediately follow. He still stared at her, but there was a calculating glint in his eyes now. Thinking how he was going to make good on that bet. Well, good luck to him.

He seemed about to reach for her, but shook his head and his hand fell away. Instead, he began to glow as faint currents of biotic power swirled and eddied around him. Miranda sucked in a breath of her own. This never got old, no matter how many times he did it. His fingers moved in small, precise movements. A phantom hand stroked her breast, circling the nipple, varying the pressure. Pleasure spiraled through her, slow and warm. He grinned at her, boyish, and for a moment Miranda could almost believe the last thirty years were an illusion. She was twenty, the pain was under control, and a maddening, wonderful, brilliant boy was finally taking pleasure in his biotics.

Memory intruded.

_They were in her room. Pain slithered through her, settling across her muscles and joints like an unwanted cloak. Terror and anger contorted Shepard's face. He paced the carpet like a caged animal. "Nothing good has ever come from biotics. Claire Eldfell spent the rest of her life in pain. My neighbor's daughter died because the nodules lined up wrong. You look like you can barely stand. So what's going to happen to me since you're getting your own shot at making a super-biotic? Why am I special?"_

His grin turned fiendish. The pressure increased, sending hot sparks racing through her.

Nothing good? No. There was the raw, simple pleasure of sex. There were the thousands of children yet to be born for whom brain tumors and L2 implants would be nothing more than footnotes in the history book. There was the man who had saved the galaxy and lived to resume the life he always should have had. And there was her: the despised cripple who should have died but had clung to life despite her father's and even Cerberus' best efforts. She had found a cause, built a life. And there was so much more yet to do.

"You okay?"

Miranda blinked. "Fine." She smiled at him, playful and seductive and rapturous. "Do your worst."

* * *

><p><em>Thank you, all of you for reading. A special thanks to themarshal, clennon8, and Ieldra, without whom this story would not exist.<em>

_And because I now know Matt and Miranda make it through okay, I can finish Portrait. __It's very AU in light of the leak. Everything past the first chapter would be heavily revised. Still interested?_


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